A life size pig lies limp on the floor. A man in a padded costume lying in a pool of crimson.

“Daddy, my toy is broken again!” I grumble.

“Oh darling,” He speaks softly, “you were supposed to hit him with the stick. Not poke him.” Gently, he takes the blood soaked spear from my tiny hands.

“I know Daddy. But he wouldn’t squeal for me.”

I flinch slightly when I realise I’m whinging. Whinging won’t be tolerated and punishments are harsh. A flash of his hand in my peripheral vision makes my stomach drop. I squeeze my eyes and brace for impact.

Confusingly the hand gently tugs on my bottom pouty lip. “Poor baby, you just want friends. You just wanted a little piggy to play with, didn’t you?”

Relieved I smile “Yes Daddy, yes I did.” quick to join in with justification of my actions.

“And what noise do good piggies make?” Daddy asks me, just as I asked the pig-man.

Daddy’s tackle dissolves my squealing into giggles, tickling my tummy and pulling me in towards him. “Is that what sound they make? Are you a little piggy? Are you? Are you my little piggy?” I squirm to stop the tickly fingers, crunching myself inwards but he’s too strong, too relentless. “No, Daddy, tee hee, Daddy, noooo, haha, Dadddddy…” When he lets up I am breathless and cradled in his arms like a baby, residual giggles subsiding.

“We will find you a new pet” he promises, stroking my face. “I know you thought that one would be good. I’m sorry he disappointed you. My special girl deserves better”

I had thought this one would be perfect. He even wanted to be a piggy. He’d sent me nice photographs of his nice piggy nose and his special pink piggy ears. In his pictures he walked on all fours, using his trotters, eating from a trough. He always looked like such a happy little piggy. I couldn’t wait to play.

The special piggy suit was even his idea. He’d bought it specially to show me, told me all about it in his messages. We got lots of messages and sometimes Daddy would show me, I’d climb up on his lap in front of the computer and he’d read aloud in a funny piggy voice.

Sometimes Daddy would laugh a lot at the pig-man’s words; sometimes they would make him growly and dark. That made my skin prickle, I’d try to breathe really quietly and listen to what Daddy was whispering as he replied “filthy fucker, I’ll teach you…you disgust me”

It was our little secret that Daddy wrote the messages really.

Daddy was just pretending the words were from me, the words and the playtime photos, the ones I take of myself, encouraging words from Daddy making me confident in my nakedness.

But the pigman never looked happy in real life like he did in his photos.

Daddy was so kind, helping him into his special suit and tying string so tightly around his boy parts. Tied so tight it nearly detached. “That’s what he deserves. Filth disgusting pig” he told me as I danced with joy at my new pet finally arriving.

“Yay Daddy, my piggy is here. Thank you Daddy, thank you so much”

Handing him over Daddy was quite clear “Do exactly as she tells you to. You wanted to be a pig, now you are.” Daddy beamed with love as he gave me the new toy “Teach him well little one, make him be a good little piggy, just as I taught you.”

I’d tried to teach him, it was hard through the padded suit. That’s why I had the stick. Cracking it hard against him I could hear the impact. I knew he was learning when the blood started to seep through.

But the pigman never did happy piggy things in real life like he did in his photos.

He wouldn’t eat the specially prepared pigfood. Packed full of nutrients, it was the best meat, the good red fleshy parts. Mixed in with guts for colour and flavour.

I’d cracked the stick against his legs to make him move, trotting clumsily towards the trough. Holding the end of the stick against his cheek I’d helped him lower his snout in, one final crack against his skull forcing him down into the gloppy mixture. “Nom nom nom, eat little piggy, eat” but he wouldn’t. Bad ungrateful piggy.

And he wouldn’t oink, he wouldn’t even try. He kept trying to use human words in between his sobs. Wailing and repeating over and over “You were just supposed to be a little girl. What the fuck is this? Let me out, please, let me go.” Pleading to me with wet eyes, snot pouring out from under his plastic snout.

I was firm in my orders “Oink for me piggy”, a second’s pause for him to obey then I brought the stick down, crashing against his body. Again, again my simple request disobeyed, bad piggy, naughty piggy.

The padded suit made it hard to distinguish which bones were broken. Piggy became a crumpled pile of pink padding, stained with red, wet pools spreading out across the material.

“Well if you won’t oink then you can at least squeal” exasperation evident in my tone yet the stupid pigman still didn’t learn, whimpering is not squealing, it’s not even close.

None of this would have happened if he’d been a good little pig.

“Squeal” I scream, using the sharp end of the stick to hammer home my message.

“Squeal” frenzied now, poking at the pile of broken pig, desperate with disappointment.

I’m glad Daddy wasn’t mad that the toy is broken. It really wasn’t very good.

“It’s OK darling, it wasn’t your fault. You need a better toy. I have an idea…” taking us both over to the computer and turning on the screen. Watching my reaction, his eyes light up just as I do. I clap my hands together with delight “Oh Daddy, yes please, oh, this one’s a puppy, oh I love puppies! Really? For me…?”

“Yes darling, if you want him. You deserve the best, and this puppy says he’s very well behaved.”